The Oxford Degree Ceremony

Another almost historic occasion in the Sheldonian was when, at a Diocesan Conference, the late Lord Beaconsfield made his well-known declaration, 'I for my part prefer to be on the side of the angels.' But these scenes only indirectly touch Oxford. More intimately connected with her history are the famous Proctorial Veto of 1845, when Dean Church and his colleague saved Tract No. 90 from academic condemnation, and the stormy debates of twenty years ago, when the permission to use Vivisection in the University Physiological Laboratory was only carried after a struggle in which the Odium Scientificum showed itself capable of an unruliness and an unfairness to opponents which has left all displays, previous or subsequent, of Odium Theologicum far behind.

Commemoration Scenes.

There is no doubt that the organized medical vote on that occasion holds the record for noise in the Theatre. And the competition for the record has been and is still severe; every year at Commemoration, we have a scene of academic disorder, which can only be called 'most unbecoming of the gravity of the University', to use John Evelyn's words of the performance of the Terrae Filius at the opening of the Sheldonian. It is true that the proceedings of the Encaenia have been always able to be completed, since the device was hit on of seating ladies freely among the undergraduates in the upper gallery; this change was introduced in 1876. The disorder of the undergraduates' gallery had culminated in 1874, and in 1875 the ceremony was held in the Divinity School. But the noise is as prevalent as ever, and it must be confessed that undergraduates' wit has suffered severely from the feminine infusion. However, our visitors, distinguished and undistinguished alike, appreciate the disorder, and it certainly has plenty of precedent for it in all stages of University history.

But the Sheldonian has more harmonious associations. Music was from the first a regular feature of the Encaenia, and compositions were written for it. The most famous occasion of this kind was in July, 1733, when Handel came to Oxford, at the invitation of the Vice-Chancellor, to conduct the performance of some of his works; among these was the Oratorio Athaliah, especially written for the occasion. Handel was offered the degree of Doctor of Music, but (unlike Haydn) declined it, because he disliked 'throwing away his money for dat de blockhead wish'.

Convocation House.

Till quite recently the degree ceremony was usually held in the Convocation House, which lies just in front of the Sheldonian, under the northern end of the Bodleian Library (the so-called Selden Wing). This plain and unpretentious building, which was largely due to the munificence of Archbishop Laud, was begun in 1635 and finished two years later. It cost, with the buildings above, about £4,200. Its dreary late-Gothic windows and heavy tracery, and the Spartan severity of its unbacked benches, are characteristic of the time of transition, alike architectural and religious, to which it belongs. It has been from that time to this the Parliament House of the University, where all matters are first discussed by the Congregation of resident Doctors and Masters; it is only on the rare occasions when some great principle is at stake, and when the country is roused, that matters, whether legislative or administrative, are discussed anywhere else; a Sheldonian debate is fortunately very rare.

Its History.

The building is well suited for the purpose for which it was erected, and so has not unnaturally been used as the meeting-place of the nation's legislators, when, as has several times happened, Parliament has been gathered in Oxford. Charles I's House of Commons met here in 1643, when Oxford was the royalist capital of England; and in 1665, when Parliament fled from the Great Plague, and in 1681, when Charles II fought and defeated the last Exclusion Parliament, the House of Commons again occupied this House. It was on the latter occasion just preparing to move across to the Sheldonian, and the printers there were already packing up their presses to make room for the legislators, when Charles suddenly dissolved it, and so completed his victory over Shaftesbury and Monmouth.

A less suitable use for the Convocation House was its employment for Charles I's Court of Chancery in 1643-4.

For the reasons given above, degree days are now much more important functions than they used to be, and the Convocation House, never very suitable for the ceremony, is now seldom used.

Divinity School.

But the Divinity School, which lies at a right angle to the Convocation House, under the Bodleian Library proper, is a room which by its beauty is worthy to be the scene of any University ceremony, for which it is large enough, and degrees are still often conferred there as well as in the Sheldonian.

The architecture of the School makes it the finest room which the University possesses. It was building through the greater part of the fifteenth century, which Professor Freeman thought the most characteristic period of English architecture; and certainly the strength and the weakness of the Perpendicular style could hardly be better illustrated elsewhere. The story of its erection can be largely traced in the Epistolae Academicae, published by the Oxford Historical Society; they cover the whole of the fifteenth century, and though they are wearisome in their constant harping on the same subject—the University's need of money—they show a fertility of resource in petition-framing and in the returning of thanks, which would make the fortune of a modern begging-letter writer, whether private or public. The earliest reference to the building of the proposed new School of Divinity is in 1423, when the University picturesquely says it was intended 'ad amplianda matris nostrae ubera' (so many things could be said in Latin which would be shocking in English). In 1426 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Chichele, is approached and asked 'to open the torrents of his brotherly kindness'. Parliament is appealed to, the Monastic Orders, the citizens of London, in fact anybody and everybody who was likely to help. Cardinal Beaufort gave 500 marks, William of Waynflete lent his architectural engines which he had got for building Magdalen—at least he was requested to do so—(1478), the Bishop of London, by a refinement of compliment, is asked to show himself 'in this respect also a second Solomon'. [The touch of adding 'also' is delightful.] The agreement to begin building was signed in 1429, when the superintendent builder was to have a retaining fee of 40s. a year, and 4s. for every week that he was at work in Oxford; the work was finally completed in 1489. And the building was worthy of this long travail; its elaborate stone roof, with the arms of benefactors carved in it, is a model at once of real beauty and of structural skill.

History of the Divinity School.

The Divinity School, as its name implies, was intended for the disputations of the Theological Faculty, and perhaps it was this special purpose which prevented it being used so widely for ordinary business, as the other University buildings were. At any rate it was this connexion which led to its being the scene of one of the most picturesque events in Oxford history; it was to it, on April 16, 1554, that Cranmer was summoned to maintain his theses on the Blessed Sacrament against the whole force of the Roman Doctors of Oxford, reinforced by those of Cambridge. Single-handed and without any preparation, he held his own with his opponents, and extorted their reluctant admiration by his courtesy and his readiness. 'Master Cranmer, you have answered well,' was the summing up of the presiding Doctor, and all lifted their caps as the fallen Archbishop left the building. It was the last honour paid to Cranmer.

In the eighteenth century, when all old uses were upset, the Divinity School was even lent to the City as a law court, and it was here the unfortunate Miss Blandy was condemned to death. But as a rule its associations have been academic, and it is still used for its old purpose, i.e. for the reading of the Divinity theses. It is only occasionally that University functions of a more general kind are held there, e.g. the famous debates on the admission of women to degrees in 1895. So splendid a room ought to be employed on every possible occasion, and happy are they who, when the number of candidates is not too large, take their degrees in surroundings so characteristic of the best in Oxford.

APPENDIX I

THE PUBLIC ASSEMBLIES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

I. Degrees are given and examiners appointed by the Ancient House of Congregation. This corresponds to the 'Congregation of Regents' of the Laudian Statutes. Its members are the University officials, the professors, the heads and deans of colleges, all examiners, and the 'necessary regents', i.e. Doctors and Masters of Arts of not more than two years' standing; it thus includes all those who have to do with the conduct, the instruction, or the examination of students. The 'necessary regents' are added, because in the mediaeval University the duty of teaching was imposed on Doctors and Masters of not more than two years' standing; others might 'rule the Schools' if they pleased, but the juniors were bound to discharge this duty unless dispensed.

II. Congregation consists of all those members of Convocation who reside within two miles of Carfax, along with certain officials. This body has nothing to do with degrees; it is the chief legislative body of Oxford.

III. Convocation is made up of all Doctors and Masters whose names are on the University's books. It confirms the appointment of examiners, and confers honorary degrees at Commemoration.

It is also the final legislative body of the University, and controls all expenditure.

APPENDIX II

THE UNIVERSITY STAVES

The old University staves, which are now in the Ashmolean Museum at the University Galleries, seem to date from the reign of Elizabeth; they have no hall-marks, but the character of the ornamentation is of that period. No doubt the mediaeval staves perished in the troubles of the Reformation period, along with other University property, and the new ones were procured when Oxford began to recover her prosperity.

Two of the old staves were discovered in 1895 in a box on the top of a high case in the Archives; their very existence had been forgotten, and they were covered with layers of dust. The legend that they had been concealed there by the loyal Bedels must be given up; no doubt they were put away when the present staves were procured in 1723. The third staff was in the keeping of the Esquire Bedel, and was brought to the University Chest, when that office ceased to exist.

The present staves are six in number, three silver and three silver-gilt. The three former are carried by the Bedel of Arts and the two sub-bedels, the three latter are carried by the Bedels of the three higher faculties, Divinity, Law, and Medicine. All of them date (as is proved by the hall-marks) from 1723, except one of the silver staves, which seems to have been renewed in 1803. The three silver staves bear the following inscriptions:—

No. I. On the top 'Ego sum Via'; on the base 'Veritas et Vita'.

No. II. On the top 'Aequum et Bonum'; on the base 'Iustitiae Columna'.

No. III. On the top 'Scientiae et Mores'; on the base 'Columna Philosophiae'.

The inscriptions are the same on the silver-gilt staves, except that the staff of the Bedel of Divinity has all the mottoes on it—'Ego sum Via', 'Veritas et Vita' on the top, and the others on the base.

The letters on the bases of all the staves are put on the reverse way to those on the tops; this is because the staves are carried in different ways; before the King and the Chancellor they are carried upright, before the Vice-Chancellor always in a reversed position, with the base uppermost.

It should be noted that they are staves and not maces, as the University of Oxford derives its authority from no external power, but is independent.

The arms on the tops of three of the staves present a very curious puzzle; one roundel bears those of Neville and Montagu quarterly, and seems to be a reproduction of the arms of the Chancellor of 1455, George Neville, the Archbishop of York; another bears the old Plantagenet 'England and France quarterly' as borne by the sovereigns from Henry IV to Elizabeth; a third the Stuart arms as borne from James I to Queen Anne; yet the work of all three roundels seems to be seventeenth century in character, and does not match that of the rest of the fabric of the staves.

1

In 1619 a B.A. candidate from Gloucester Hall (now Worcester College), who failed to present himself for his 'grace', was excused 'because he had not been able to hear the bell owing to the remoteness of the region and the wind being against him'.

2

Till recently the whole list of candidates for all degrees was read by the Registrar, as well as by the Proctors afterwards when 'supplicating' for the graces of the various sets of candidates. Time is now economized by having the names read once only.

3

If the Doctor be not an M.A., then his admission to the Doctorate follows the admission of the M.A.s.

4

Verdant Green was published in 1853, and this is the oldest literary evidence for the connexion of 'plucking' and the Proctorial walk. The earliest mention of 'plucking' at Oxford is Hearne's bitter entry (May, 1713) about his enemy, the then Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Lancaster of Queen's—'Dr. Lancaster, when Bachelor of Arts, was plucked for his declamation.' But it is most unlikely that so good a Tory as Hearne would have used a slang phrase, unless it had become well established by long usage. 'Pluck', in the sense of causing to fail, is not unfrequently found in English eighteenth century literature, without any relation to a university; the metaphor from 'plucking' a bird is an obvious one, and may be compared to the German use of 'rupfen'.

5

The old principle is that no one should be presented except by a member of the University who has a degree as high or higher than that sought; this is unfortunately neglected in our own days, when an ordinary M.A., merely because he is a professor, is appointed by statute to present for the degree of D.Litt. or D.Sc.

6

This delightful piece of English conservatism was only removed from the statutes in 1827. It refers to the foundation of a university at Stamford in 1334 by the northern scholars who conceived themselves to have been ill-treated at Oxford; the attempt was crushed at once, but only by the exercise of royal authority.

7

The form is found in the two 'Proctors' books', of which the oldest, that of the Junior Proctor, was drawn up (in 1407) by Richard Fleming, afterwards Bishop of Lincoln and founder of Lincoln College; but it was then already an established form, and probably goes back to the thirteenth century, i.e. to the reign of Henry III.

8

It is perhaps still necessary to emphasize the fact that the name 'University' had nothing to do with the range of subjects taught, or with the fact that instruction was offered to all students; the latter point is expressed in the earlier name 'studium generale' borne by universities, which is not completely superseded by 'universitas' till the fifteenth century.

9

The coincidence is not accidental. Magna Carta was wrested from a king humiliated by his submission to the Pope, and the University Charter was given to redress an act of violence on the part of the Oxford citizens, who had been stimulated in their attack on the 'clerks' of Oxford by John's quarrel with the Pope.

10

Oxford never received this Papal ratification; but as its claim to be a 'studium generale' was indisputable, it, like Padua, was recognized as a 'general seat of study' 'by custom'. The University of Paris, however, at one time refused to admit Oxford graduates to teach without re-examination, and Oxford retorted (the Papal bull in favour of Paris notwithstanding) by refusing to recognize the rights of the Paris doctors to teach in her Schools.

11

In the Scotch Universities Doctors are still created by 'birettatio', the laying on of the cap, and I believe this is still done at many 'Commencements' in America.

12

Compare St. John x. 22, ἐγκαίνια = 'The Feast of the Dedication'.

13

This custom has left its trace in our matriculation arrangements. Candidates are still required to state the rank of their father, and their position in the family, though birth and primogeniture no longer carry any privileges with them at Oxford.

14

The University authorities at Paris and elsewhere had a great objection to dictating lectures; on the other hand the mediaeval undergraduate, like his modern successor, loved to 'get something down', and was wont to protest forcibly against a lecturer who went too fast, by hissing, shouting, or even organized stone-throwing.

15

It is amusing to notice that the irreducible minimum of the Ethics at Paris in the fourteenth century consists of the same first four books that are still almost universally taken up at Oxford for the pass degree (i.e. in the familiar 'Group A. I').

16

It was only 2d., a sum which has been immortalized by Samuel Johnson's famous retort on his tutor: 'Sir, you have sconced me 2d. for non-attendance at a lecture not worth a penny.'

17

It was resigned voluntarily by New College in 1834; but the distinction is still observed (or should be) that a Fellow of the College needs no grace for his degree, or if one is asked, 'demands' it as a right (postulat is used instead of the usual supplicat). I have adopted Dr. Rashdall's explanation of the origin of this strange privilege. It is curious to add that King's College, Cambridge, copied it, along with other and better features, from its great predecessor and model, New College.

18

i.e. in the Parvis or Porch of St. Mary's, where the disputations on Logic and Grammar, which formed the examination, took place: this was probably a room over the actual entrance, such as was common in mediaeval churches; there is a small example of one still to be seen in Oxford, over the south porch of St. Mary Magdalen Church.

19

For their history and for a description of the present staves, cf. Appendix II.

20

It seems a pity that the old order cannot be restored, and the candidates kept outside till their 'graces' have been passed. Formerly they were kept in the 'Pig Market', i.e. the ante-chamber of the Divinity School (see p. 89), or in the Apodyterium, till this part of the ceremony was completed; they were then finally ushered into the presence of the Vice-Chancellor by the Yeoman Bedel. The modern arrangement, by which candidates are present at the passing of their own 'graces', i.e. at their admission to the degree, may be convenient, but it is quite inconsistent with the whole theory of the ceremony.

21

For the importance of the Proctorial walk and for the legends attached to it, compare p. 10.

22

For the presentation to the new doctorates, D.Litt. and D.Sc., cf. p. 11.

23

When a candidate had passed Responsions, he was called a 'sophista generalis'. The title has now died out in the English Universities, but survives in the form 'sophomore' in America.

24

This adornment seems to have survived in Oxford till within the last half-century; at all examinations subsequent to 'Responsions' a candidate, when going in for Viva Voce, had a little black hood placed round his neck; this arrangement has now disappeared.

25

The old statutes as to the dress of graduates are still in force, and partially observed at conferment of degrees, examinations, &c., but there is consideredable slackness as to them. It is only too common to see a Dean 'presenting' in a coloured tie, although his undergraduates are all compelled to don a white one.

26

This is delightfully commemorated in the old custom of Queen's College, by which, at the Gaudy dinner on Jan. 1st, each guest receives a needle with a silk thread of the colour of his faculty—Theologians black, Lawyers blue, Arts students red—and is bidden 'Take this and be thrifty'. The mending of the hood was a duty which must have often devolved on the poor mediaeval student. The custom dates from the time of the Founder (1340). It is sad that so few colleges have been careful, as Queen's has been, to preserve their old customs.

27

Those of royal blood, the sons of peers and members of Parliament, and those who could prove an income of 60 marks a year, were allowed the privilege of Masters.

28

i.e. if they are admitted by a college as 'noblemen', and are entered on the books as such.

29

The initials S.T.P. (Sanctae Theologiae Professor), so commonly used for Doctors of Divinity on monuments, are simply a survival of the old usage according to which, in the Middle Ages, Doctor, Professor, and Master were synonymous terms for the highest degree. It was only later that 'professor' came to be especially applied to a paid teacher in any subject.

30

The buffooneries of the Terrae Filius, who was a recognized part of the 'Act', would be even more shocking in a consecrated building than merely secular business.